Heavy
by xxWickedWench
Summary: "I keep dragging around what's bringing me down. If I just let go, I'd be set free. Holding on. Why is everything so heavy?" Written for Circulation One of the Newsies Pape Selling Competition.


Death had a peculiar way of making time stop, as if he hadn't been greedy enough. Life comes and goes, ebbing and flowing, until it is so easily snuffed out like a candle. It was unfair. Death was so selfish.

Lissa O'Rourke was tired. She was tired in her brain, tired in her heart, and she was tired in her bones. She was eighteen years old and yet she felt as if she were sixty-five. Her whole body ached, the pain blossoming in her chest, aching with each beat of her heart like a bruise.

The November air was bitingly cold and Lissa was thankful that being a society girl had afforded her the luxury of owning a coat and scarf. Still, even the warmest garments could not assuage the chill that rattled deep in her bones.

Church bells sang; a Death omen.

Lissa had never seen so much black in her life. She'd also never seen so many people cramped into one church. Had Diana known this many people? Surely not.

A hand touched her own and it was then that Lissa remembered that her arm was hooked around Sean's. "I found us a seat, Liss," he said quietly, guiding her into one of the rows. She sat down beside him, numb.

Funerals were crafted to show the best parts of a person. She wondered for a moment what the funeral of a murderer was like. Did they talk about her love of sewing? His penchant for the violin? Lissa couldn't imagine.

The man standing before the weeping crowd spoke only of Diana Burton's good qualities in such a mechanic way, as if he were reciting poetry from a book. They were ignoring the obvious, the reason that Diana was dead. It wasn't pretty nor proper to say that Diana had taken her own life. The word _suicide_ didn't belong in society. It was on par with _orphan_ or _Irish_ or _freckles_.

Not that Lissa could've handled that word at this juncture. She was barely holding her head above the water. She wasn't taking in any water just yet but she was barely treading. Everything felt so heavy.

The pastor led them all in a prayer that would absolve Diana's soul and free her to go to heaven. As if she needed the mercy. As if she hadn't the right. Society had demanded so much from her, forced her hand on so many occasions. Hadn't she the right, the privilege, to enter heaven simply because she was a victim of her circumstances? How could anyone possibly make this her fault?

Lissa's body moved in slow motion, it seemed, towards the casket. The Burton's were stood at the head of the line, receiving consolation as people moved forward. Lissa wasn't a fool; they'd only invited her because of her relationship with Diana. As far as they were concerned, Lissa was just another street rat, a no-good theater rat. Performers were only a step above the street rats, after all.

Mrs. Burton was shameless in her red crinoline gown. How dare she be so bold at her own daughter's funeral! Mrs. Burton, ever the stickler for things to look good on the outside, embraced Lissa against her.

"Thank you so much for coming, Alissa," Mrs. Burton said, loud enough for some of those around them to hear. Quietly, against Lissa's ear, she continued, "How dare you show your face here after everything you did. You very well had killed Diana yourself."

Lissa stiffened, angry. "I didn't kill Diana, Mrs. Burton. You did. You have no one to blame but yourself. You choked the life out of her." Lissa took a step back, staring hard at the older woman. "Rot in hell."

Pain blossomed in Lissa's left cheek and it took a few beats to realize that Mrs. Burton had struck her across the face. A few horrified gasps were heard and Lissa's eyes stung with hot tears.

"Oh, God," she gasped.

"Come on, Angel. Let's go," Sean said, pulling Lissa away, holding her up when he felt her knees buckle. He had to be strong for her. She would capsize at any moment.

The smell of fresh dirt invaded Lissa's senses and she realized that she and Sean were now sitting in the graveyard. The wake had long since been over, though Lissa had no recollection of it at all. She'd run away again, just like hundreds of times before. When things got too ugly, Lissa would skitter away inside herself as a means of protection, but her time was stolen when that happened.

"I don't remember how we got here," she said quietly.

"That's okay. I've got you," he told her, just as quiet.

"Do you suppose she's happy? Diana, I mean. Wherever she is."

Sean looked at her funny. "You don't believe she's in hell for what she did?"

"Hell is other people." Lissa was quiet for a moment. "Her mother was hell. They forced her into such a tiny corner that she didn't think she could ever escape from. Maybe she did the right thing. Maybe she's better off."

Fear and panic caused Sean's face to pale. "You don't believe that any more than I do, Liss."

"Being asleep is better than being awake, Sean. You're not sad when you're asleep."

"She's not asleep, Lissa. She's gone." That caused the tears to flow freely again. "But you're right," he said, after a long time. "You aren't sad when you're gone. You're nothing. No anger, no jealousy. No joy. Is that what you want?"

It took a long while for Lissa to shake her head. "I don't want to be dead. But I don't want Diana to be dead either." She exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold air. "I keep thinking I'll wake up from this nightmare, that she won't really be gone."

"We keep people alive by remembering them. That's what we will do." Sean squeezed her hand in his own and then stood up slowly. "Come on, Angel. It's suppertime."

And just like that, the world kept moving. As the pair moved through the streets, the snow crunching under their boots, they watched as store owners snuffed out candles and locked their doors. The smells of dinner wafted through the thin air. Smoke from fireplaces arched high up into the sky, spinning round and round.

Nobody knows what happens to you when you die. Is there a heaven waiting for you or just the darkness? Life isn't promised to anyone. Your life could be snuffed out like candles in the blink of an eye.

But there is one thing that is certain: no one in life is truly alone. Share the burden, don't try to carry everything on your own. Life is only as heavy as you make it.

* * *

 _Author's Note-_

 _Some of you may or may not know, but on July 20th, 2017, Chester Bennington lead singer of Linkin Park was found dead by hanging in his home. This resonates with me, as I have also lost someone close to me many years ago from suicide. This was written for the Newsies Pape Selling Competition, but also as a reminder to everyone that life is beautiful. Life is worth sticking around for. Someone needs you to stay alive. If you or anyone you know is suicidal, please call the Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-8255. Thank you._

 _Word count (including author's note): 1,309_

 _Task 1: Write about a newsie gaining their freedom from a bad situation._


End file.
